The Divinest Life
by Derby
Summary: Anna hates etiquette school. When she meets Spot, sparks fly.. but only on Spot's side. Will the tough-enough Spot Conlon do anything to gain Anna's love? Even dress up like a girl and endure etiquette school? (aahhh.. cheese-fest summary!)


A/N: Long time, no type. ^_________^ Wait.. ::moves the annoying talking staple guy out of her way:: That's better. This fic might seem a bit like my Yorkie P stories, but it's not. So :p. Heeeheee. I'm happy to be writing again. ^_____________________^ and I love you all (in a sociablly acceptable way.)  
  
Disclaimer: Well whaddya know? I own Anna, but the Newsies. they don't belong to me. Yet. (I'll get you my pretties, and your little uh. newspaper too!)  
  
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The Divine(est) Life  
  
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"When served a light salad at a dinner party, which fork would you use?"  
  
My eyes seem to be locked on the crisp green bowl overflowing with green leaves of garden goodness.  
  
"Anyone?"  
  
A dollop of ranch dressing. the creamy garlic sauce running to the bottom of the high polished crystal.  
  
"Anna. You see to be quite intrigued by what lies on the table. Perhaps you know the answer?"  
  
Pardon? I hadn't heard a word the manners mistress had said. Managing to tear my eyes away from my soon to be eaten victim, I looked up at her. Smug little smile, calm eyes, hair clasped tightly back stretching the skin on her forehead. This was the woman I was supposed to learn how to be a 'lady' from. I remembered the day mother and father dropped me off with a kiss and a letter at 'Miss Bellingshausen's School of Etiquette for Young Ladies' How I wish I had leaped from the carriage window that day and never came to this place. I would take a few broken bones over etiquette school any day.  
  
"It's ah. That one, Miss." I pointed to the fork closest to me. Why I had to know such pointless activities was beyond me. I doubt very much that any place I ever go to eat in the future will require me to eat with different forks. I feel quite sorry for the kitchen boys who must wash about three thousand forks after a dinner party with only four guests.  
  
"Incorrect. You may miss afternoon tonight's social dance." Miss Bellingshausen clasped her hands together and nodded at Georgette, who's frantic waving of her hand must have been the main cause of many Kansas tornados.  
  
Oh the shame! To miss tonights social dance where we must stuff our bodies into unnaturally tight corsets and dance with clumsy boys who smell rather like expired cheese. Fetch me a handkercheif before I bawl my soul out! Poor, poor me. I will just have to spend my time alone doing horrid things like writing, bothering the kitchen boys, and gasp!, eating food that contains flavour!  
  
"When served a light salad at a dinner party," Georgette answered, casting a short superior glance at me, "it is only proper to use the mid length fork with the thin tongs."  
  
I rolled my eyes inwardly.  
  
Miss Bellingshausen clapped with bravado; her eyes alight with joy for her perfect student. "Correct, Miss Cape!"  
  
"I can see you shall grow up to be a lady with the grace and charm of the best, unlike some of our other students." She gave me a snippety smirk. Georgette repeated the action.  
  
I stuck out my tongue at her. She screamed. I was told I was to miss dinner as well.  
  
"Good lord." I widened my eyes with annoyance. By the end of the year I was sure to die of starvation before even getting a chance to show off my wonder manners to some stuffy suitor.  
  
The strict mistress' sharp ears immediately picked up my mutter. "Don't bother attending breakfast tomorrow, Miss Waddell," a few giggles were inserted here from my classmates; they seem to find my last name amusing. "Since you already seem to be to educated in the art of manners to learn with the rest of us."  
  
Miss Bellingshausen, or the Pompous Platypus as I like to call her (for she has a mouth quite like a platypus' bill), dissmissed us with a swift flick of her hand.  
  
"Waddell! Waddell! Anna waddels like a duck! A fat duck!" Georgette and her ever-expanding group of cronies called after me as I headed to my small dormroom I shared with another girl. I stopped suddenly, turned around slowly and faced Georgette. Coking my head to one side, I crossed my eyes, puffed out my cheeks, stuck out my tonuge and started shaking madly. They ran off screaming like a group of pinpricked banshees. Ah, the beauty of having little or no manners.  
  
I skipped up the steps two at a time, not bothering to lift up my heavy skirts. The hem was dirty and grey by the time I entered my room.  
  
One side of the room was neat and organized, each book in its place; each piece of clothing hung straight, the bed crisp and starchy. The other side was a disorganized mess, clothes rumpled on the floor (with a few footprints decorating them), the bed sheets twisted and not changed for quite some time, and the floor so unidentifiable the maid dare not venture there.  
  
Surprisingly, the neat side was mine. One of my few admirable traits (in the Pompous Platypus's books) was that I was quite tidy concerning my room. My roomate, Alice, quite the outcast, was the messy one. That's fine with me. She's quite an interesting person. But in this school of manners, being interesting means you're 'weird' and 'socially inept' and ocasionally, 'dumb as a door handle.'  
  
Alice was not invited to attend tonight's social dance either. She was often left out, mainly because she had trouble controlling her.. Er.. Let's just say the last time she was invited to a social dance she was found in the trees having a romp with two of the boys from Brooksend.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was nearly six o'clock by the time the building had been cleared of the babbling, fluffy dressed girls all giggling over who would dance with this week's head turner. (If I had not attended such a fine etiquette school, I may have just leaned over and tossed my turnips into the plant pot.)  
  
I bounded into the kitchen to bother John and Edwin, the resident kitchen boys. They were only a year older than me at sixteen. If I pestered them enough they would usually let me take some food just to make me leave.  
  
"Don't cut it like that, stupid!" I could hear John's voice. A knife made a harsh cracking sound.  
  
"'Ello there, Anna. Missed the social dance again?" Edwin asked me as I entered the kitchen, my heart lighter.  
  
"Yeah. Not like I wanted to go anyway though." I shrugged and grabbed an apple, rubbing it until it shined on my apron. It crunched loudly.  
  
Edwin laughed and John tossed me some carrot peelings. I sat very unladylike on the counter, my skirts hitched up nearly to my knees. John and Edwin had been my friends since I first came here on my ninth birthday. Quite the gift, don't you think? What loving parents I have, dumping me here while they have a lovely trip around the world (and never seem to be coming back.).  
  
  
  
The sun bowed to the moon as the sky darkened. My peers would be arriving back soon; I was expected to be found in bed, thinking about my awful behaviour (which I don't find that awful in particular.)  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Alice was sound asleep already, her toes sticking over the bed and snores erupting form her mouth. Everynight I managed to fall asleep to snore equivelent to a trainwreck. I'd like to see the PP (pompous Platypus, of course) try that.  
  
I closed my eyes, not really asleep, and waited for morning.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Derby: The newsies enter in the next chapter =) Don't worry. 


End file.
